


Things Fall In Place

by hbrooks



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cute, Fluff, M/M, Personal Trainer!Stiles, Sexytimes, Top!Stiles, bottom!Derek, dubcon, firefighter!Derek, pissy!derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 11:07:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1093165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hbrooks/pseuds/hbrooks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek Hale, a firefighter, is forced by recent legislation to hire a personal trainer. Just because some stupid firefighter decided to not be fit doesn't mean he had to go a join a gym. But no, he had to do exactly that, and hire a personal trainer. At least Boyd knows a cheap gym with a cheap trainer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things Fall In Place

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was supposed to have been done like a million years ago, but I got distracted by life and my super long fic. Hope you guys like it!!! xoxoxo

“I’m telling you this whole thing is totally bullshit.” Derek huffed. “I do _not_ need personal training.”

Boyd laughed. “Neither do I, but the more you put it off, the more the chief is gonna come down on you.”

Derek leaned back on the aged couch, stretching. “Seriously. Fucked up legislation. That was one stupid fat old guy that’s messing with my life.”

“Just go get the physical already.” Boyd poured some more coffee and stuck some leftover Chinese food in the microwave.

“Did that.” Derek crossed his arms. “I came out fine. Don’t know why I still have to get the training.”

“Part of the ‘Fit For Duty’ program the governor signed. Doesn’t matter. The fit get fitter, and the fat get … fired or fit.”

Derek shrugged. “Whatever. Fine. So, since we don’t get reimbursed for this stupid crap, do you know any personal trainers that are cheap? Too bad we can’t just use the equipment we already have.”

Boyd smiled. “My girlfriend works at this place called McCall’s. It’s a decent gym, super cheap to join and they got a few trainers working for them. Let me see what sort of deal I can get for you.”

“Tell Erica ten dollars or less a month,” Derek stated. “That’s all I’m willing to pay.”

The microwave dinged and Boyd pulled out his nuked dish, shoveling the crap in. God it was gross watching him eat.

“Might be possible. Trainers run from $30 to $100 per session. I’m seeing her later today, so I’ll ask.”

“Is that why I pretty much have the weights to myself?” Derek asked. “Cuz you’re over there scamming on your girlfriend instead of lifting?”

Boyd smiled. “You bet! Man you need to get the hell out of here and out of your crap little apartment and find yourself a little something.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “No thanks. I’m good.”

Boyd laughed. “Whatever you say boss.”

***

Stiles leaned over the reception desk, talking to his favorite blonde.

“So, then I was like, ‘I know what I’m doing,’” he said. “But no, the guy _had_ to disagree with everything I said. I have fucking degree in kinesiology.”

“Oh poor duckling,” Erica said. “You simply are just too cute to work here.”

“Cute? Thanks, Erica.” He stretched. “I’m just pissed at all the myths out there.”

“Maybe if you grew some facial hair you’d look older than 17.”

Stiles stiffened. “I’ll have you know it’s a genetic trait that keeps my face smooth.”

“Stiles,” a voice said.

He wheeled around and saw his best friend and boss approach the desk. Ever since high school when they were bullied for being scrawny little kids, they both decided to lift and, well, Scott certainly had the better genetics in that department.

“You’d make more money if you actually tried to get clients instead of pestering Erica.”

Erica rolled her eyes. “Scott, I tell him that every day. And yet, everyday he continues to talk to me. There is no reasoning with a Stilinski set on jabbering.”

Stiles was about to open his mouth to sass back, but the doors opened to reveal Boyd, and some glorious god of manly perfection. Erica lit up like a christmas window display at the arrival of her One True Love—they could be so disgustingly cute.

“Boyd!” she said.

“Welcome to McCall’s,” Scott said, extending his hand. “Good to see you again, Boyd. Brought a friend for a trial membership?”

Boyd laughed. “Yeah, this is my co-worker, Derek.”

Derek looked like he didn’t want to be there at all. Scott extended his hand to the newcomer. Derek shook it somewhat unwillingly—at least he was polite. But god, if he was this much of an asshole …. Stiles knew to avoid assholes, after his last encounter.

“So, Derek,” Erica said. “I’m guess you’re here because of the recent edict to keep firefighters fit?”

Right, Boyd was a firefighter, which meant that Derek was a firefighter, which meant he was probably just as much of a dick as Boyd was. Fuck. Well, time to make his exit.

“Yeah,” Derek said.

Erica beamed. “Good, we have one of our best trainers available right now. This is Stiles.”

Stiles froze, like a startled deer. “Uh, hi.” He extended his hand.

Derek grudgingly shook his hand.

“He’ll give you a tour. I need to go get ready.” Boyd re-shouldered his gym bag and took off to the locker room.

“Enjoy today on us,” Scott said. “Come see me or Erica if you are interested in joining. Stiles?”

“Okay, right this way.” Stiles wanted to strangle his friends. He led Derek away from the desk and off to the free weight area.

“Free weights,” Stiles said, indicating the area. “Just make sure to re-rack the weights you use.”

“I know my way around the gym. You’re a trainer? How much?”

“I charge $30 an hour.”

“Fine. When can we start?” Derek looked superbly annoyed. “I have to log 20 hours this month and 20 next month.”

“Uh, probably tomorrow. You said it’s for the recent program thing? I’ll need to get the information on that.”

Derek waved him on. “Let’s finish this tour.”

Stiles took him past the weight room to the punching bag area—four full stations, 20-30 minute workouts only if someone was waiting. Stiles showed Derek the few cardio machines—McCall’s emphasis was more on bodybuilding and less on slimming down, but they had two treadmills, two stair masters, and two bikes. Stiles then took Derek through the small yoga studio room they had—he emphasized that stretching was an important part of any exercise routine. Derek rolled his eyes at that. Stiles pointed to the locker rooms—which also had the showers, sauna, and bathrooms.

Stiles brought him back up to the front desk. “There aren’t a lot of machines, here.”

“I do free weights anyway.” Derek leaned against the counter. “We can start tomorrow. I’ll come in at 8am.”

Stiles nodded. “Anything in particular you want to focus on?”

Derek glared at him.

“Well, if you have to do this whole thing you might as well get something out of it, is all.” Stiles shrugged. “So, think about it. Tomorrow, we’ll go over your goals and such.”

“Bring in the required forms for Stiles to sign,” Erica chimed in. “We’ll need your assignment number to comply with the program so your hours are logged properly. I’ll fax over our credentials and Stiles’ ACE certifications to your chief, and we’ll take care of the governmental process for you.”

“I’d like copies as well,” Derek said. “Thanks.”

He nodded once to Erica, once to Stiles and walked off to the locker room.

“What an ass,” Stiles muttered.

Erica barked one laugh. “Oh my god. You have no idea. If that’s the Derek that Boyd keeps mentioning as the most penny-pinching miser with no social life, then I’m sorry Stiles. But you’ve got guaranteed income for the next two months!”

“Yeah, but at what cost?”

“It could be worse,” she said. “He could be fat and an asshole. At least he’s fucking hot.”

“I don’t need more hot assholes in my life, you know that right?” he said.

“Yeah, sorry. But you don’t have to date him. Just look and tune out the attitude.”

Stiles grinned. “True, true. Though he’s gotten remarkably less hot with that awful attitude of his. Personality accounts for a lot, Erica.”

“From what I hear, so does a hot bod.” She winked at him.

“God Erica, if I didn’t know better, I’d so hit you.” He shook his head.

His phone buzzed. A text from Scott telling him to go wipe down the machines. Again.

“Boss man wants me to wipe down again.”

Erica grinned. “Make sure to catch your drool if you start staring at Derek.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” she laughed as he walked away.

***

Derek waited at the desk for Stiles. He knew he was ten minutes early, but he just wanted to get this stupid farce over with. He didn’t need personal training. It was stupid and useless and over anything else, expensive. A total waste of money.

Erica was probably playing on facebook or something.

“You know,” she said. “You’re kinda creepy when you stare. If it makes you feel better, Boyd did his training with Stiles just after the announcement.”

“I know. He recommended Stiles.”

Erica shrugged. “Yeah. He is a good trainer. Just shy and lazy about getting clients and too nice.”

Derek didn’t say anything. He was here to get this over with so he could go back to his normal life routine.

“He’s always on time, so don’t worry.” Erica looked at him. “And please, quit looming. I am quite capable of taking care of your paperwork.”

Derek sighed, and moved over to one of the two chairs in the small lobby area. Three minutes until 8. Erica got up and made a few copies. He supposed he should at least trust her. He’d met her once a couple years ago the one time he made the mistake of going to the Firefighter’s Grill Out. Ever since then, he refused to do any public stuff. The chief, however, made him drive the engine a couple times for parades. At least that got him out of the spotlight.

Stiles then walked in. Exactly at 8am. Derek couldn’t be pissed though. He was right on time. Infuriating as the situation was, at least the guy was cute.

“Derek,” Stiles said, all professional tone. “Have you decided then what you want your goals to be.”

“Just maintenance,” he said.

“Okay, let’s do a couple tests. It’s part of the training, and required for your the assessment portion.”

“Physical should have taken care of that.” Derek followed Stiles into the gym.

“I know, but ‘rules is rules.’ We have to test for flexibility, upper and lower body strength, the Bruce Treadmill Test for cardio fitness, and for core strength.”

“Still is bullshit.” Derek hated this. He was in fine shape. Better shape than anyone at the station. Probably the whole county.

“I know. Let’s get you warmed up. We’ll start with the cardiac fitness test. Get on the treadmill. I’ll be adjusting it. Can you wrap this heart monitor on yourself? Just above the rib cage.”

Derek took the stupid thing and lifted up his shirt. You’d think 6-pack abs would dismiss any concern of cardiac problems, but no. Stiles watched him patiently. At least the guy wasn’t a horn dog or jealous ass. He wrapped and secured the device—just to show Stiles that he had flexibility as well.

“Ready?” Stiles asked.

Derek just nodded. The sooner these stupid tests were over, the sooner he could just do his own thing and get the government off his back.

Stiles turned the treadmill on, raising the speed and incline intermittently. He made a few marks on the sheet he had with him. Derek tried hard not to look, but he wanted to know what Stiles was writing. Looked like just some numbers really. Of course.

Derek went through the whole battery and Stiles then hit the stop button after allowing Derek a minute to cool down. Well, at least the guy knew something. Okay, perhaps he was unfairly hard on Stiles: taking his annoyance out on the kid. He’d try to be nicer. Or something.

“Great!” Stiles said. “We’ll do some flexibility tests now.”

Derek took off the heart monitor and give it to Stiles. He then lead Derek to the yoga space.

“We put the yoga room in here, mostly because Scott’s fiancee is a yoga instructor and wanted to teach here. So he made her one. She’s pretty popular. Turned a full two-thirds of the members into yoga junkies. Or maybe just cuz she’s pretty.”

“Ah,” Derek said. “Makes sense.”

“And good for you that we have space to stretch in. So, sit anywhere you want. I’ll go grab some of the equipment.”

Derek sat on the floor, feeling stupid. No one else was in the small room dedicated to yoga. Stiles had wandered off, then came back a couple minutes later with a few things.

“We’ll start with the sit and reach test.” Stiles said. “I’ll take three measurements and use the best one for your sheet.”

Derek nodded.

Stiles set a box at Derek’s feet, and Derek leaned forward three times, each time stretching a little bit farther.

“Good,” Stiles said. “Okay now, go ahead and stand up. We’ll do the back scratch test. I want to see if you and clasp your hands behind your back, like so.”

Stiles demonstrated, stretching his right hand up and over his shoulder and the left under and clenched his hands together, and repeated for the other side.

“Okay.” Derek tried twice with his right side—Stiles did a quick measurement—and couldn’t get it, but he could on the left.

“Great!” Stiles said.

Failing the test did not account for great, did it?

“Alright, last flexibility test.” Stiles handed Derek a rounded yard stick. “I want you to start with this in front of you, and bring it up over your head to you back and down. I’ll be noting the measurements when you’ve brought it behind your back.”

Derek performed the test three times and Stiles told him to hold it for a moment each time.

“Alright,” Stiles took the yard stick and collected the box. “I’m going to return these and grab a stop watch. Grab some water if you need. We’ll be moving on to the core strength test.”

Derek stretched a little bit more and then took a sip from the water fountain just outside the yoga room. He surveyed the gym: it was more crowded than the gym at the fire station, but better equipped. Maybe he’d keep his cheap membership—courtesy of Boyd.

Stiles came back. “You ready?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Great!” he said. “We’ll do a one minute full-crunch test first.”

Derek nodded and sat down. He felt less angry. A nice face did help.

“I’ll have my knees on your feet and count for you during the minute. Try not to take any rests. Ready? Go.”

Derek was an expert at crunches. Stiles had counted to 67.

“That’s really good.” Stiles marked the number down. “We’ll be doing side planks to failure to test core strength. Do you know how to do them?”

“Yeah, a total bitch.”

Stiles laughed. “Right? Sorry, but it’s mandatory for the test.”

Derek sighed. He did each test and held for 45 seconds on each side.

“Last core test is back extension. Or the superman. Lay down and raise both your arms and legs from the floor as far as you can. I’ll measure the time.”

“Right.”

Derek scored what he thought was an abysmal 30 seconds.

“Last group of tests, upper and lower body strength tests.” Stiles smiled. “One rep chest press, one rep squat, and pull ups.”

Stiles moved out to the weight area, and grabbed a free chest press bench.

“What is your normal bench press?”

“Two plates, ten reps.”

“Is the bar you normally use 45 pounds?” Stiles said.

Derek nodded. The guy was thorough and nice.

Stiles stacked two plates on each side of the bar, and secured the weights with collars. Derek laid down on the bench.

“I’ll be spotting you, just in case this is different from you’re normal weight.”

Derek grunted, then lifted the weight from its rest. He pumped out ten reps, struggling a little bit on the last one, though Stiles didn’t help him. When he was finished, Stiles re-racked the weights.

“Okay, moving on to the squat test. What do you normally lift?

“Three plates and a quarter.” Derek rolled his shoulders. “I need to do a warm up set for this.”

Stiles stepped back and waited. Derek threw up two plates on each side and gracefully moved through the motions. Best to warm up on this exercise—for him at least. He watched Stiles, but thankfully didn’t get the perv vibe.

He racked the weights, and Stiles put on the extra 70 pounds per side. Thank god Derek wasn’t boasting when he gave those weights to Stiles. He’d always had strong legs.

“I’ll be right here, in case you need me. I’ll step in if it looks like you need help, got it?”

Derek nodded. He took two deep breaths, and lifted the weight from the rest and squatted. His face reddened by the tenth rep and he practically slammed the weights home.

“Great form man,” Stiles said. “Last it pull ups. So, this way.”

Derek shook out some of the extra tension built up from the exercise and followed Stiles.

“This is a fatigue measurement. Just do as many as you can until failure.”

Stiles stood, arms crossed and waited. Derek jumped up and grabbed a hold of the bar. In short order he had twenty busted out and failed just shy of twenty-five.

“Right. Derek, this way. It’ll take me a minute to get this information processed and faxed off. I’ll discuss your results in just a bit. Grab some water, and I’ll see you at the front desk in a few minutes.”

Derek went to the bathroom and sucked down a mouthful of water before leaning on the front counter. Erica was still pretending to work.

“Oh, Derek. How’d the test go?” She smiled.

“Stiles said he’d come back and give me the results in a bit.”

“He’s pretty good, isn’t he?”

Derek shrugged. “He isn’t a complete idiot, no. Which is an accomplishment.”

Another trainer walked in the door, with a slender young man and a fiery haired girl close behind him.

“Hey, Danny!” Erica said. “Afternoon Mr. Whittemore, Mrs. Whittemore.”

“Hey, Erica,” Danny said. The two clients, just nodded in her direction.

“Stuck up, but they pay.” She smiled then turned back to her game of Bejeweled.

Stiles returned, and leaned against the counter. “You’re scores are all great, first of all. As you said, you are in great shape already. I think we need to focus on flexibility, your weakest area, and probably do some cardio with mixing new exercises into your weight routines. You’re scores are all above the required ending value, and according to the legislation, you’re entitled to an 75% reimbursement of fees up to $2,500.”

Derek smiled broadly. “Great. How about you charge me up the that $2,500 fee.”

Stiles asked, “Are you sure? Erica, calculator, please.”

“Sure,” she said.

He punched in the numbers really quick. “That’s $83.33 per hour,” he said. “You’d pay end up paying $833.33 out pocket.”

“Yeah, beats the $1,200 I was going to pay. Glorious payback for the stupid shit.” He turned to Erica. “How come Boyd didn’t say anything about this?”

“Boyd probably forget. Or Danny didn’t tell him. Danny can be an ass like that. Not that Boyd cares much.”

Derek nodded. “Okay. You figure it all out. Better that someone gets that money for the stupid shit. Call it an inconvenience raise.”

Stiles grinned. “Thanks man. I’ll see you everyday this week for an hour okay?”

Derek smiled. “Alright. See you tomorrow. 8am.”

Feeling better, Derek drive back to his small room apartment. At least someone was going to benefit from the whole stupid thing, and it might as will be Stiles. No matter that he had to pay out of pocket first. Better than the government getting off on being assholes.

***

Stiles finished up his little pep talk in his beat up Jeep. “Remember buddy, you can do it, and you’ll be fine. No matter how ripped the stupid guy is.”

He nodded one last time to his reflection in the rear view mirror. Well, this would either seal his fate as a shitty personal trainer, or make him something of a god among McCall’s gym. Either way it was nerve wracking.

“Morning, Erica,” he said. He took a look around. No Derek. “He hear?”

She shook her head. “It’s a few minutes to 8am. Maybe he woke up late? Or …”

“Erica, that’s quiet fine thanks.”

“Oh, Stiles, I already know you. Fell in love at the mention of the raise.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Whatever. I’ll be grabbing some paperwork from Scott.”

“Okay. I’ll page you when your firefighter gets here.”

Like the mature man he was, he stuck out his tongue and walked up the short stairs to the office where they stored all the paperwork. Occasionally Scott would be up here, but he hated spending time in the relatively cramped space. Sadly, office duty was part of everyone’s job description. Specifically relating to clients.

Stiles grabbed the file on Derek, and looked over the numbers like he’d done for an hour yesterday. Based on what he thought, Stiles had come up with a routine to do with Derek to get him in even better shape—if that were possible. The man was like a freaking machine. It was ridiculous. Stiles never felt horribly out of shape since the end of high school, but this guy almost put Scott to shame.

“Paging Stiles. Come to the front desk.”

Stiles grabbed the notebook he always used with clients—the few who bothered with him—and the print out of the notes he’d made yesterday. He took a deep breath before descending to the main floor.

“Hi, Derek,” he said, shaking the other man’s hand. “Welcome back.”

“Stiles.”

At least he looked less sour today. Maybe he’d even get a smile.

“I put together a few things I’d like to discuss with you. I know you aren’t into really doing this whole training thing, _but_ I think I have a plan that can help you get more strength and more flexibility.”

“Let me see,” Derek said.

Stiles walked him off to the side and gave him the paperwork.

“It’s a few exercises that I’ve compounded into intense full-body workouts designed to increase real world strength—as opposed to superficial set equipment strength—and a few stretches that should help loosen you up.”

Derek flipped through the pages, his expression blank the entire time.

Stiles knew the work was good. Based on Derek’s tests and his general posture, Stiles identified the problems he could fix. Well, address. Derek didn’t really need any fixing. He wasn’t going to injure himself really.

“Looks fine.” Derek handed the papers back to Stiles. “I’m guessing you have a plan for today?”

“Yeah.” Stiles smiled. “We’ll do a quick warm up on the stair master, five minutes, to get the blood flowing and then we’ll do full body lifts.”

Stiles led Derek to the machine and turned it up to a decent speed. Nothing too crazy. After the short time, he worked through the routine with Derek. After the hour was almost up, and poor Derek was sweating like it was high summer in Death Valley, Stiles took him to the yoga room to do a few stretches for cool down.

“Is it okay if I help you stretch out? I noticed your hamstrings are pretty tight.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Derek laid down.

Stiles lifted up one leg and gently pushed it back toward Derek’s chest. “Let me know if it’s too much.”

“Okay.”

Stiles pressed until there was resistance. He then pushed more forward, controlling the motion. God, it was hard not to think Derek was super hot, laying down like this and him right there, but no. He was a professional, and put it from his mind. Maybe he’d have to jack off before having appointments with Derek.

“That’s it,” Derek said. “Starting to hurt.”

“Alright. I’ll hold this for 30 seconds, and then we’ll switch legs.”

“‘Kay.”

When his watch counted off the time, he gently lowered the leg and performed the same action, until Derek told him to stop.

“Partner assisted stretches are some of the most beneficial,” he said. Derek had his eyes closed, so he continued. “They often provide a way to get deeper, controlled stretches that are not as easily or safely achieved under one’s own power. Yoga is great too. I’ll give you the schedule for Allison’s classes, but she doesn’t target for individuals, so I’ll still incorporate stretching into our routine.”

Derek didn’t say anything.

Stiles slowly let Derek’s leg down.

“How does that feel?” Stiles asked.

“Better. Feels nice to have that stretched out.”

“Good.” Stiles sat back on his haunches. “Now, see if you can follow my movements.”

He came up to the beginning of a push up and tucked his knee under his chest. “Just come down slowly, like so.” He lowered his other leg to the ground. “Allison is fond of this position. It’s called ‘pigeon.’ Great for opening up the hips, basically tightened from running and walking.”

Derek raised one eyebrow but did as he was told. Stiles came to a sitting position so he could better judge Derek’s movements.

“Good, good. You should feel the stretch even here.”

Derek had his hands on either side of his bent knee. “Yeah, can definitely feel it.”

Stiles grinned. “Awesome! See if you can lower to your elbows.” He quickly showed Derek and unfolded out the position.

Derek slowly came down to his elbows. “Whoa, this is intense.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No, just feeling the stretch extra good, and here I thought I was in great shape.”

Stiles counted the seconds on his watch, and then instructed Derek to switch sides and fold over the other knee. Stiles went through a couple extra stretches he thought Derek could benefit from and then helped the man to his feet.

“That should do it for the session,” Stiles said. “When did you want to meet tomorrow? Same time?”

“Yeah, that’ll work. Just need you sign this slip for me. Boyd’s been laughing his ass off forever. I’m the only one in the firehouse that hasn’t finished the training.”

Stiles took the slip and walked Derek to the front desk. He scribbled his signature on the note.

“Firehouse most of the day tomorrow, but this?” He waved the slip around. “Gets me out of duty for the length of the session.”

“Legislation,” Stiles said.

Derek shook his head in agreement.

Stiles said goodbye to Derek and couldn’t help himself: he had to watch Derek’s backside. When Derek turned around at the door, Stiles gave a little wave. Derek waved back and then he was outside and gone from sight.

“Smooth, Stilinski,” Erica said.

“Shut it, blondy.”

Erica shrugged. “He’s certainly a hottie. Good for you that I’m attached to Boyd at the hips. Otherwise I just might have to snag him for myself.”

“Some of us aren’t predators.”

“Shame,” Erica said. “You should really try it some time. Might actually get a date with a hottie and not spend every night online.”

“You’re creepy.”

Erica just smiled.

“Bye!” Stiles said and ran off to go do paper work and get in a quick workout himself.

***

Boyd munched on potato chips. At 7:30 in the morning. Some things Derek just did not understand, nor would he even attempt to.

“Quit giving me that look Derek, and get off your ass.”

“I know, I know.”

“Training suck?”

“No, no.” Derek continued to sit.

“Stiles is a damn good trainer.” Boyd stuffed more chips into his face hole.

“Yeah, he’s good at what he does.”

Boyd crunched loudly and spoke with his mouthful. “What’s the hold up? Oh my god.” He sat up straight and swallowed.

“Oh my what?” Derek crossed his arms. 

“You like Stiles!” Boyd grabbed a napkin and wiped his hands—at least he wasn’t a total slob. Well most days anyway. Then Boyd got up and clapped him on the shoulder. “Good for you man.”

“Good for me what? I do _not_ like Stiles.”

“Just like you _didn’t_ like that brunette at the picnic?”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I did _not_ like her either.”

“Mmhmm.” Boyd smiled. “Go get it. Besides your appointment is in like twenty minutes. Hurry, Derek Hale.”

“Fuck you, Boyd,” Derek said, grabbing his keys.

“No, no. That’s Erica’s privilege. You can fuck Stilinski. I bet he screams.”

“Oh my god!” Derek ran out of the firehouse. Good god, Boyd could be annoying as shit, but damn, he may have gone a little bit far this time. Derek hopped in his truck and shook his head as he put it in gear and drove to McCalls. Stiles was cute, for sure, but he didn’t _like_ him, did he?

Soon, he entered the now-familiar parking lot. He was early again. Fucking Boyd.

He made his was across the lot and opened the doors a little rougher than he really should have. Erica gave him the biggest smile.

“Why, hello Mr. Hale.”

“Your boyfriend is a complete and utter dick.”

Erica winked. “And that’s what keeps us together, Derek. Oh my. You know, Boyd sent me the most _interesting_ message just now.”

“I’m sure he did. Is Stiles here?” Derek really did not want to have any conversations with Erica at that moment. Especially not concerning Stiles.

“Oh Stiles? He’s around here somewhere I’m sure.”

“Would you mind paging him, please?” he said.

“Well, since you asked so politely, why, yes, I shall. Besides, it’ll be pure entertainment to watch.”

Derek felt his skin turn red.

“Stiles to the front desk,” Erica said over the loudspeaker. Then she put the device down and grinned at Derek. “Delightful!”

Derek refrained from saying anything. When Stiles showed up, Erica had the tenacity to wink at him. Boyd and Erica deserved each other, as horrible as they were.

“I don’t even want to ask,” Stiles said.

“Good.” Derek was most assuredly not interested in his personal trainer. Nope.

Derek put himself into the workout, probably harder than he really should have, but it beat thinking about anything. Soon his hour was up and there he was, on the floor, stretching. Again.

God, more partner assisted stretching. Stiles was rambling about something while he’d been moving Derek through some stretches.

“… and it’s really good for the back. Don’t worry, we won’t do the whole pose. I know, I know. But Allison makes me take her classes so other people will be interested. At least that’s what she said.”

Suddenly Stiles threw his legs over his head, his ass up in the air and Derek blinked a couple times. Okay, maybe he was interested. Fuck.

“This is the basic plow pose,” Stiles was saying.

Plow. Oh god. He looked like he’d been bent in two with the intent to kill. There was no way Derek was going to be able to even attempt that.

Then Stiles rolled up and Derek was left wondering what the hell just happened.

“Don’t look like you’re going to die. It’s really not that bad. I’ll help.”

Derek nodded.

“Just lay down, good. Now lift your legs up and start to bring up the back. Yeah, exactly. Perfect, and bring them over your head. Don’t worry, I’ll catch your feet so you won’t hurt yourself.”

He just grunted. It wasn’t exactly easy to breath with his legs over his head. There was nothing natural about this pose at all. Fuck Allison and her stupid yoga classes and making Stiles take them so he could be tortured. This was way worse than yesterday’s stretches.

True to his word, Stiles caught his feet and held them up. Derek tried to move out of the pose but his feet were stuck and Stiles clucked his tongue. Didn’t he know this was impossible and horrible?

But then, just when he thought he couldn’t handle it anymore, Stiles lifted up his legs and Derek kinda flopped down and breathed deeply.

“That was the worst thing ever,” he said.

“I know,” Stiles answered. “It’s horrible all the time, but it makes you feel absolutely amazing afterward.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“Good, do so.”

Stiles made him endure a few other stretches, but at least the worst was over. Then he carefully got to his feet and brushed himself off. At least the workouts were new and different. Stiles lead him back to the front desk and then Derek saw Erica grinning like a fool and he suddenly wanted to punch something. Or someone named Boyd.

“So, we’ll see you Monday morning then?” Stiles asked.

“Yeah, Monday, same time should be good.” Derek reached out and shook Stiles’ hand and then left.

He swore he heard hushed whispers and maybe a giggle. He ignored all the sounds and went to his truck and drove back to the station. Where he would have to endure Boyd for another 24 hours. Fuck, it was going to be a long shift.

***

Stiles stared at his phone. It was Saturday, and he had no plans. Not that unusual, but sometimes Danny would invite him out, or Erica, if Boyd had pissed her off. Scott was almost always at home with Allison as they rarely left the house.

But he really wanted to just get out, dance, and get his drink on. Especially now that he actually had money to spend.

He paced the small apartment, glad that Scott paid him enough to afford to live on his own—not that it was easy. Sometimes he missed living with his dad, but tonight was one of those nights where he was thankful he could be an adult and get into some shenanigans.

He decided he needed to make some calls.

“Scott, yo!” he said.

“Stiles, what is it?” Scott sounded a bit busy.

“Is that Stiles?” he heard Allison say as though from a great distance.

“Guess you’re at home. I need to get out and do something.”

Scott sighed. “No, Allison. Um, I’m already dressed for bed.”

“You are a horrible, horrible friend, Scott McCall. Just so you know.”

“Let me talk to him.”

Then some scratching sounds and something muffled.

“Hey, Stiles.” Allison’s voice was clear.

“Allison, make Scott come hang out with me.”

She giggled. “If I could make Scott do stuff, I would.”

“Come on!! We haven’t gone out in _months._ Months, Allison! It makes me weep for our friendship.”

Allison said nothing for a moment. He heard some muffled whispers.

“Hello?”

“Still here. Fine, you’ve convinced me.” Allison giggled again. “Call Erica and Danny too. Might as well make it a big party.”

“Allison!” 

Scott whined loud enough for him to hear.

“Yes!” Stiles almost whooped. “Cool, same place?”

“Sure. They still got a couple pool tables? I haven’t played in ages.”

“Yeah! Awesome! Say in forty-five minutes?”

“Okay. We’ll see you later Stiles.” Allison hung up the phone.

Stiles spun around in a little circle. Finally! Something good. He quickly called Erica and it took him a couple minutes to convince her to come as well—bribing her with a free dink cinched the deal. She, of course, would drag Boyd along, but the guy was pretty cool when he wasn’t all over Erica. Oh well, he would steal a dance from his blonde coworker. She _was_ fun when she wasn’t being evil.

Danny was much easier to convince.

“Hey, wanna come out to the bar? Maybe play some pool?”

“Who’ll be there?”

“Me, Erica, Boyd obviously, Allison, Scotty.”

“Sure, tell Scott he’s buying me a drink though.”

“Will do! We’ll be there in about thirty or so.”

“Cool,” Danny said and hung up.

Stiles danced around his tiny living room in joy. Finally, a good night out with some dancing, a game or two of pool (though Allison always beat him), and best of all: drinking. God it had been too long since he’d been out.

He rushed to his room and started going through his clothes. Hm. He needed something sexy …. He pulled out his tightest shirt and a slightly less tight plaid shirt and some form-fitting jeans. But, first things first, he had to get a quick shower.

After he was cleaned and dried off (and of course spritzed himself with just the right amount of cologne), he dressed and double-checked his ensemble. If he could say so, he looked good.

As the bar was only a few blocks away from where he lived, he decided to walk the short distance. After all, it was a lovely night.

When he arrived, bright neon lights beckoned him inside. He didn’t see anyone’s car, but he was still a couple minutes early (and he knew that everyone else would be late anyway). He walked in, and felt immediately better. Tonight was gonna be a good night.

At the bar, he ordered a beer to get started.

“Thanks,” he said to the bartender. “Gonna start a tab!”

He turned around to scope the place for hotties. Well, at least so he’d have _someone_ to look at until his friends arrived.

Danny was the first one there, dressed in his tightest green shirt. Stiles definitely appreciated the way Danny dressed—if he wasn’t such a cocky jerk half the time, he might have been interested. Well that and he was totally fucking the Whittemores.

He waved until Danny saw him and approached.

“I’m the only one here? Stuck with you Stilinski?”

“Aw, Danny, don’t make it sound like a bad thing.” He gave his best smile. “Besides, the party’s just getting started. Want something to drink?”

“Who are you and what have you done with Stiles?”

“Hey, hey! Just wanting a night of fun. Scott and Allison will be late, probably because she has to dress him and drag him out the door.”

“Too true.”

“And Erica and Boyd probably wanted to bang before coming out.”

“Did not need to know.”

“So, what’ll it be?”

“Rum and coke, thanks.” Danny give him a little smile.

“Coming right up!”

Stiles ordered Danny’s drink and another for himself. He quickly chugged the rest of the beer and set it down, satisfied. Yup, tonight was gonna be awesome.

Returning with the drinks, Stiles surveyed the room again. With Danny of course.

“You wanna play a game?” Stiles asked.

“Beats staring at all these losers.”

“Now, now. Don’t channel your inner Jackson.”

Danny rolled his eyes.

They played a half game before Scott and Allison came in. Strange, Stiles would have guessed they’d be last. No matter, he waved them over.

“Looks, like Danny beat me to it,” Allison said. “I play winner.”

“That’s certainly not me,” Stiles said, waving to the table. “I’m stripes.”

“Dude,” Scott said. “Have you made any in?”

“Yeah! Like three.”

Danny just grinned. “Poor thing has no experience.”

Soon enough Danny cleaned the table, and Stiles took Scott to the bar. Allison was focused and ready to win. Sometimes she was just a little _too_ competitive.

“So, what prompted this need to party?”

“It’s been like forever. And I finally have some money.”

“Yeah, last time was when Boyd paid you for training right?” Scott asked.

“Pretty much.” Stiles clinked his beer against Scott’s. “But yeah, I needed to get out and have some fun.”

“You totally ruin my life all the time, Stiles.” Scott pouted. “I could have gone to bed early and slept.”

“You’re still young so shush. You never hang out with me anyway. Glad Allison isn’t the party pooper you are Scott McCall.”

Scott just gave him a weird look. “Just because you like to stay up all night playing your silly—”

“They aren’t silly!” Stiles interjected. “They are …”

Erica walked in, Boyd and someone else trailing behind him. She looked damn good out of her work clothes.

“Well, looks like the rest of the party arrived,” Stiles continued. “Now, I need to get Erica a drink.”

Scott moved to the pool table, and Stiles ordered another drink at the bar. Tequila Sunrise, Erica’s favorite. When he turned around, she was right next to him. Along with Boyd. And Derek. Oh fuck he looked even better dressed to go out. He was bulging everywhere. Fuck.

“Stiles,” Erica said. “Thanks for the drink.”

He shook his head. “Most welcome. Boyd, Derek.”

Boyd nodded and Derek said, “Hey.”

Well it was going to be an interesting night.

After they’d all played pool and had a couple more drinks, Stiles really wanted to dance. And a great song came on. So he grabbed Erica and rushed to the other side of the room.

“Boyd is going to be pissed that you stole me,” she said, grinning.

“Nah, Boyd likes me.” Stiles closed his eyes and undulated to the rhythm.

“Yeah, cuz you dance with me and he doesn’t have to. So, why not grab a friendly fireman?”

“Boyd doesn’t dance.”

Erica playful hit him. “No silly. Derek.”

“He probably doesn’t dance either.”

Erica grabbed his arms and giggled. “Won’t know until you ask.”

“Too sober.”

“Easily fixed!”

“Ugh. Maybe.”

After another few songs of blessed not talking, Erica pulled Stiles to the bar. He got another drink for himself and another for her, and they walked back to the pool table.

“Allison’s winning so far,” Scott said. “She’s got 4 wins and a loss. Danny’s got three wins and two losses. Derek has two for two, and Boyd hasn’t won any.”

Stiles nodded and took a sip of his long island iced tea. Erica decided (and he agreed) that he needed to step up his drink game. He was, after all, still feeling mostly sober.

Stiles watched the game as Allison totally beat Danny again. She played Boyd next, and whooped him as well. Stiles and Erica gossiped about the gym people and had another drink. Soon, Stiles was watching Derek get his ass kicked by Allison.

“Damn!” Derek said. He rubbed his face and then stalked off to the bar.

Allison just smirked. “Anyone else wanna go?”

Stiles held up his hands. “No, thanks. Starting to feel the buzz a bit. And I lost to Danny. Horribly. So you should give them a break and dance with me!”

Stiles grabbed Allison’s hand and dragged her to the dance floor. After all, who could resist Nicki Minaj? Allison lost the frown and danced away. Stiles grabbed at her waist and laughed. God, dancing was awesome. He saw Derek nearly fuming at the bar after a few songs and pulled on Allison back to the group. Boyd and Erica were missing, and Scott and Danny were playing pool. Derek was glowering nearby. Guy needed to learn to take defeat better.

Allison, presumable not wanting to interrupt her Scott, pulled them over to Derek.

“Sorry about winning,” she said. “My dad and grandpa love pool, so I’ve been playing since I was a little girl.”

Stiles smiled. “You can also blame her for all the horrible stretches I make you do. This is _the_ Allison of yoga fame.”

Derek forced a smile. “Not like I was ever great a pool. And then Boyd ditches me for blondy.”

“Hey! I call her that too!” Stiles grinned.

Derek raised an eyebrow.

“You know.” Stiles lowered his voice. “Alcohol is great for the cardiovascular system.”

“Is it?” Derek said.

Allison giggled and then left Stiles there. Rude.

“Want another drink? I’m getting my drink on tonight.”

“Is it your birthday or something?” Derek gave him some unknowable look.

“No, it’s my ‘I have money day.’”

“Yeah, well, you mean you have my money day. Which means you should buy me a drink.”

“Done and done! Come on, let’s get another round!”

Stiles was unsure how he got from drinking another round (his what, fifth? sixth? drink) with Derek to dancing with the same Derek, and his head felt very fuzzy. All he knew was that he was having an _amazing_ night so far.

He was feeling very hot, and decided that he needed to lose his plaid shirt. And after his plaid shirt he needed to lose his other shirt. Derek, for some reason, continued to dance with him on the floor. At some point, long dark hair flashed and he was holding a bottle of water—which tasted completely wrong by the way. Then he was back to dancing.

Derek was great. Like wow at dancing. Stiles was just about to go for a kiss when the music stopped and he was awkwardly leaning toward Derek.

“Why’d the music stop?” Stiles said. He felt pretty fuzzy. 

“The place is closing down.”

“Oh.” Stiles looked around. Some people were milling around, but most were leaving. “Where is everyone?”

Derek took Stiles by the shoulder. “Boyd and Erica left about an hour ago.”

“Without saying goodbye? Rude!”

“She told me not to let you have any more drinks.”

“Danny? Scott and Allison?”

“I’m pretty sure Danny left after he beat Scott. Yoga and Buff left a bit ago and told me to make sure you got home.”

“Such good friends they are.”

“I’d say. Where do you live?”

“Couple blocks away. On Maple.” Stiles was feeling really good. No more drinking though. He might get sick and that was just not pleasant for anyone.

Stiles tugged on Derek and led the way down the streets. It was rather cold, and then he realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt. What happened to his shirt?

“It’s cold,” he stated.

“Yes.” Derek handed him something.

Stiles took it and stumbled toward Derek. But he got the thing. Which was fabric and turned out to be his shirts. He wondered about that as he put them on.

“Did you have my shirts?”

“Yes, you took them off and nearly flung them away, but I grabbed them. In case of emergency, like cold night air.”

“So thoughtful.” Stiles tripped over something. A strong hand caught him and he smiled up at Derek.

“Maybe I should hold on to you so you don’t damage yourself. After all, finding a personal trainer in this town is insanely difficult.”

“I’ll say,” Stiles added.

Stiles lead the way and soon they were at his apartment door and he seemed to have difficulty finding his keys, but he did manage. Soon, they were inside, where it was deliciously warm. Too warm. He ended up flinging his shirts off somewhere. He’d find them tomorrow morning.

“Wait,” Stiles said. “Did you drive?”

“No, Boyd and Erica drove me.”

“They _abandoned_ you?”

“Yeah. I said I’d take a cab or catch a ride with someone.”

“Good. You seem too sober anyway.”

Stiles pushed past Derek into his small kitchen and looked in the fridge for mixed drink stuff. Or beers, but he didn’t see beer. He pulled out some orange juice and then pulled out vodka from the freezer, snagged a cup and poured it.

Derek was just staring. 

“Hey, no sense in not drinking if your not driving,” Stiles said. He sampled the drink just enough to make sure it was tolerable, and handed to Derek.

“Now, I have to go the bathroom. Don’t go anywhere.”

Derek just gave him this weird look and pulled out his phone. Stiles found the bathroom, and once relieved, he felt amazing.

“Derek,” Stiles said.

“Hold on,” Derek said. “Yeah, he’s fine. Made it home. Texting is so impersonal. Okay. Bye.”

“Erica?” Stiles said.

Derek nodded.

“Thank god I have tomorrow off.” Stiles blinked. “I’m pretty wasted.”

“Good thing.”

Stiles noticed that Derek had drank most of the glass. There was something he was going to do, but got interrupted…. Oh right. Kiss.

Before he knew it, he was leaning up against Derek, and kissing him. He tasted exactly like orange juice and vodka, and delicious. Stiles pressed in further, wrapping his body around Derek. He heard a thunk on the counter and then strong arms were clasping him, hands searing his naked flesh.

Stiles, locked to Derek’s sumptuous mouth, clasped and pulled at Derek’s shirt. He was moving backwards but toward what? He hit a wall and doorjamb at some point—those would leave bruises tomorrow. Suddenly, his knees buckled and he was falling onto something soft. Bed. Right.

Derek stood before him, looking a little unsure. Stiles tugged at the hem of Derek’s shirt and lifted it. But he couldn’t reach high enough, flat on his back as he was. Derek took the hint and pulled his shirt free.

Dear god the glorious muscle. Wow. Derek was smiling.

“What?” Stiles said.

“You know, I think you’re much easier to read on alcohol. Especially when you say, ‘dear god, what gloriousness.’”

“Oh.” Stiles giggled. “I can’t help it.”

Derek leaned down and kissed Stiles. Okay, so this was definitely good. Stiles kissed back and fingered the button on Derek’s jeans. When he couldn’t seem to figure those out, he fumbled at his own. God he was getting so horny that each touch sent shivers coursing through his body.

He thrust up at Derek, and attempted to escape the kiss long enough to de-clothe at least himself. If not Derek as well.

He managed to wriggle free and shucked his pants. Thankfully he was wearing cute undies so at least he could flout those for a moment. He looked up to see Derek also in underwear—less cute, but hey, he couldn’t fault him on style choices. 

Stiles then pounced on Derek and navigated the bigger man to the bed, properly, and the bed tripped Derek this time—as was only right. It was his bed after all.

He tasted Derek’s lips again and brought his body rhythmically across Derek in the most sensual friction his could imagine. Time to lose the undies. He bit tenderly at Derek’s lips then let go and bit the the ugly boxers Derek was wearing and managed to rip them off—if Derek’s legs were helping, so be it.

Stiles stood and, with two thumbs, gently tugged down his own, watching Derek’s eyes. He was fixated, and then Stiles stepped free of the underwear and gazed at Derek laid out before him. Certainly a lovely sight to see.

Stiles thought for a moment, but Derek shifted and then Stiles basically attacked the other man with his mouth. After tasting most of Derek’s chest he moved to his dick and took it all at once. With coaxing, it hardened to perfection. Derek’s hand had found their way into Stiles’ hair. As for himself, he had on hand on his own dick to get the party started.

He moved up and stretched across the bed and barely managed to open the drawer and pulled out his lube and a condom with some difficulty. He slid slowly back down Derek and showed him the hard-won prize from the wooden devil he called his nightstand.

Derek smiled and tried to grab them, but somehow Stiles was quicker.

He tore open the condom and put on some lube and, before Derek could move too much, Stiles put some lube on his hole and massaged the outside for a moment. He lined himself up and slowly inched his way forward. Derek groaned and Stiles grinned. He folded over to kiss Derek and let his hands play over the skin like he was a piano savant.

Slowly, he built up the rhythm to a nice pace. He was sweating and so unbearably hot, but this was so awesome. Fuzzy enough from the alcohol and just sharp enough to savor every thrust. The low guttural sounds from Derek pushed him to the edge, but he squeezed tight to rein himself in.

He wrapped a hand around Derek’s dick and slowly maneuvered up and down to the rhythm he’d created. He felt for signs for orgasm while still insistently kissing Derek. He felt Derek’s balls tighten and let his own restraint fade. In moments, white bliss filled his head and he collapsed onto Derek’s chest, stick fluid between them. He sighed heavily. He’d known tonight was going to be great.

All he wanted to do was sleep, but he should clean up. At least a little. He patted Derek’s chest, kissed him on the cheek and rose to go to the bathroom. He carefully unwrapped the condom and, knotting it, threw it away and grabbed two worn wash clothes and dampened them. He cleaned himself off and threw it on the bathroom floor. The other he brought back with him to his bedroom.

Derek just watched him as he slowly wiped the mess from Derek’s torso, to his lubed crack. He looked tired. Stiles felt tired, but he managed to throw the washcloth into his clothes-basket. He crawled up the bed and tugged on Derek.

“C’mon,” he said, his voice low.

Derek, quick, jumped up and dove under the covers. “You owe me breakfast. And a ride home.”

“Mmm.”

He got under the covers as well and, when he went to cuddle Derek, arms had already drawn him tight. He closed his eyes and smiled.

***

Derek woke up to light streaming through blinds. He didn’t have blinds. He groaned. It took him another moment to realize where he was. Of course, the dead weight next to him also helped. Eyes sticky and head feeling stuffed with wool—maybe steel—he decided he had to get up and go to the bathroom. And scrounge for water. God he was thirsty.

He stumbled up and almost tripped in the covers. He looked over and Stiles was completely passed out, face down in the pillows. He grabbed his boxers and stepped into them.

Continuing on, he found the bathroom and switched the light on. It wasn’t as clean as he kept his, but really, Stiles didn’t seem to be the kind of person that would keep his place spotless. After relieving himself he padded to the kitchen and switched on a light. The microwave’s time read 8:27am. On a Saturday. Damn you internal clock, he thought.

Finding a glass on the counter with orange juice and what smelled like vodka, he dumped it and rinsed it out several times before filling it with water and guzzling it down.

Much better.

He went on a search for his pants. More for his cellphone than the pants though. He found them in a corner of Stiles bedroom and checked for any messages. Nothing.

Should he crawl back into bed with his personal trainer? Why didn’t feel weird about the whole thing? He ended up back under the covers staring at the ceiling. Without the rise and fall of Stiles’ chest he could have sworn that the guy was dead.

He replayed last night’s events in his mind. God. He felt a little foolish for just jumping into bed with Stiles, but Boyd had been right, after all. He _hated_ when Boyd was right about anything. But this left him in the awkward position of … well being here.

He thought about calling a cab. It would be so much easier to just leave Stiles laying in bed wondering where he went, but that would make the session (oh god) on Monday much, much more awkward. He only had so much time to complete the training and he had no intention of switching now. It was almost too late as it was.

No, he’d face the situation like the adult he pretended he was. Fuck. He hazarded a glance over at Stiles, but the guy was still gone to the world. Momentarily, he thought of waking Stiles up. What time had they even gone to bed?

He closed his eyes, but he knew there was no way he was going to be able to fall back asleep—just another gift he had.

Stiles stirred next to him. Still looked dead though.

Derek decided torture was in order. At least a little bit. He poked Stiles in the ribcage. When that didn’t seem to work, nor shaking, he did the next best thing: ran his finger down Stiles’ spine to his hole. Stiles bolted upright, arms flailing. It was sheer luck that he didn’t clock Derek.

“Jesus!” Stiles yelped. “Oh god! My head. Oh what are you doing to me?”

Stiles flopped back on the bed and groaned in pain.

“I was sleeping,” he added.

“I know.” Derek stifled a laugh. “I got bored waiting for you to wake up.”

“Nnggg.”

What a coherent reply.

“How long?”

“How long what?”

“Did you wait?”

Derek smiled. Stiles had he head buried in the pillows.

“Fifteen minutes.”

“Not long enough. Sleep.”

“Nope. I remember that you owe me breakfast. And a ride home.”

More groaning from the pillows. “Fifteen more minutes.”

Derek poked at Stiles again. “Nope. I’m hungry.”

Stiles rolled over, and glared up at Derek. “Get me water then.”

He raised one eyebrow. “The magic word?”

“Now? Okay, okay. Please?”

“Sure. You can get up to get your own Advil. Which I recommend.”

He got up and went to the kitchen in search of glasses. He wouldn’t use his own dirty one, that was just inconsiderate. He heard thumping and then the flush of the toilet. Then more thumping. He filled a big glass of water up and brought it back to the bed. Stiles was lying there with his hand over his face.

“So, we totally had sex, didn’t we?” Stiles said.

“Yup.” Derek sit the water on the nightstand.

“Was I too aggressive? I’m sometimes too aggressive.” Stiles took the glass and downed half of it along with the pills in his hand.

“Believe me, I was interested. I’m just a bit shy and in denial sometimes.”

“I didn’t peg you for being into dudes.”

“Same. Boyd teases me all the time about it.”

“Gay? Bi?”

“Bi. Mostly gay though. I don’t tend to get along with women very well.”

“Nice. Ugh still so early. No food until I feel better. So … you’re okay with us sleeping together?”

“If I didn’t want it I would have said something, so yes. I am fine with what we did. You?”

“Uh, totally. I mean you are a god among men.”

Derek laughed. “I think you mentioned something along those lines last night.”

“I’d be embarrassed but my head hurts too much to feel.”

“Hurry and make it not hurt,” Derek said. “I’m hungry. And I’m a big guy so I need food. Soon, preferably. I might starve to death.”

“Wouldn’t want that. Emaciated wouldn’t look so good on you. I like you fluffy.”

“Fluffy?”

“You know, bigger.” Stiles groaned. “My brain isn’t working.”

“Food,” Derek said. “Helps all the time.”

“Coffee,” Stiles countered. “Even better.”

Derek stood up and stretched. “I think I’m going to use your shower and steal your clothes.”

“Shower… that might make me feel human again.”

Derek laughed and dashed to the bathroom first. He luxuriated in the hot water after cleaning himself. Once dry, he found Stiles half-asleep on the bed.

“Your turn, Stiles.”

“Promise that you’ll give me back my clothes.”

“Promise,” he said as he started digging through the drawers. “No boxers?”

“Ugh, those out-dated ugly things? Nope. You’ll just have to settle for cute undies.”

Derek held up something that at least resembled boxers and put them on. A little of a tight fit over his legs, but otherwise not too bothersome. Next he put on a clean pair of socks and pulled his jeans on—they’d be fine for more than one day anyway. Stiles had the shower running at least. Good progress.

It took him several tries with Stiles’ shirts, but none of them really fit. He was just too big. But at the bottom he found one that didn’t make him look like a crazy person, so he settled for that. At least it was clean.

When Stiles emerged in his bath towel, he gave Derek a strange look.

“What?” Derek said. “None of the others fit.”

“Right.” Stiles quickly changed, moaning a couple times if he moved too fast. “Hangovers are awful.”

“At least you aren’t still drunk,” Derek commented.

“Yeah.” Stiles finished getting dressed. “Do you mind driving? I think I need to find my sunglasses to fight the glare of the evil bright thing in the sky.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Then I’m picking the place and you are totally paying.”

“Cruel! Why am I paying?”

“Bottom’s privilege.” Derek smirked. “Don’t look so surprised.”

“Urgh… You make up such pretty lies.”

He laughed. “Come on.”

“Where are you going to drag me?” Stiles fumbled around and turned back with sunglasses already on.

“Miss Mattie’s Café.”

“Oh my god.” Stiles brightened. “Yes. Let’s go.”

Derek held his hands out for keys. He felt better than Stiles probably did, so driving should be no problem.

“Oh, keys. Yes. You drive stick? I have an old Jeep.”

Derek deadpanned. “Of course.”

“No seriously, she’s finicky.”

“Just give me the keys, that way you can have coffee and I can have a giant, free breakfast.”

Stiles handed the keys over, and then led the way to the car. Once outside, Derek wished he had his sunglasses. Though colorful, Stiles was right about the sun being too damn perky. It was a short walk to the Jeep, and a quick drive to the cafe.

Once settled in, Stiles still refused to take off the sunglasses, claiming that it was still too bright until he had coffee to darken his soul. Why did Derek find that even more endearing? Oh well.

Once they’d ordered and gotten coffee, Stiles seemed to perk up.

“So,” Stiles said. “Bottom’s privilege?”

“Yeah, you totally didn’t ask so, I get bottom’s privilege.”

“I don’t follow,” Stiles said.

“Surprise sex. Not that I’m complaining, but next time, I get to top.”

“Oooh, I don’t know about that,” Stiles said. “You’re a little bit big for me.”

“I’m average, but that’s beside the point.”

“So, would I get this so-called privilege?”

Derek smiled. “Maybe. Only if we don’t agree before hand.”

“It sounds to me like you just made it up. Oh. A second time? Fuck! I’m slow today.”

“Yes, you are.” Derek rearranged his serving ware.

Stiles looked lie he was thinking. “So, Derek, would you want to go, sometime you know, and have like dinner or something?”

He laughed. Sex and the guy was getting nervous? “Yeah, let’s.”

“Tonight, then. After this, I get top’s privilege and you have to stay and cuddle all day.”

“I think I could manage. I may have to cancel all my plans.”

“Bull, you don’t have any plans.”

Derek grinned. “Says you.”

Stiles crossed his arms. “Yup, says me.”

Breakfast went well enough, and Derek privately smiled the entire time. Stiles, after some coaxing, took off the silly glasses and they talked for hours—he’d never been so enamored of anyone before. It was like the pieces had fallen in the correct order.

 Then, Stiles drove back to his apartment, much restored, and they decided to watch stupid movies all day on the couch (which really meant napping and making out, which Derek was totally on board with). With a drowsy Stiles in his arms, Derek stared at the poor choice of Netflix movie that Stiles had demanded they watch. Eventually, after Stiles had passed out, Derek fell asleep on the couch with the thought that he’d finally met someone he could care about. Stupid Boyd for being right.


End file.
